


Mnemophobia

by Corveille



Series: Phobias [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A little, Ada Is Precious, Bars, Cat Owner Gavin Reed, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Cussing, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Drinking & Talking, Drunk Gavin, Fist Fights, Gavin Meets Sumo, Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin Reed Whump, Gavin Reed-centric, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Heavy Drinking, Hurt Gavin Reed, Is Gavin and Hank you guys, Naive Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Not Quite Enemies to Tolerant of Each Other, Protective Connor, Seems to be the Theme Of this Series, he's getting there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corveille/pseuds/Corveille
Summary: Some shadows of the past come to haunt Gavin again, he deals with them in the only way he knows...  but he's not the only one who wishes to forget.





	Mnemophobia

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a continuation of the Claustrophobia fic, some parts might not make sense if you don't read it first.
> 
> It kind of funny how I get all my inspiration when I'm under stress, maybe I should try it more often. Anyways I hope you enjoy this little thing, ended up being longer than I've originally planed.
> 
> (Sorry for any mistakes in advance.)

 “Another one.”

Gavin rasps as he cleans bits of alcohol off his lips with the sleeve of his jacket and ignores the bulb flickering from above the stool he’s sitting on. Music no more than white noise to him at this point. He stretches his back until it pops, looks up at the ceiling fan spinning slowly on top of him, and in a slip of soberness wonders how many drinks he had in the last thirty minutes.

He’s lost count by now, not that it really matters when getting drunker than fucking Anderson was the whole point of this trip. Phone held tightly in one hand coats his face in a pale blue, screen showing an email he’d received over an hour ago.

The bartender leaves a glass in front of him and Gavin waste no time in drowning it all. Face down, he glances at words written on it and tries to forget about life for a minute.

He could still remember his body freezing after reading it, ‘a regrettable loss of a mother’ as if, there is nothing to feel sorry for.

He has to give credit when is due, first contact in fifteen fucking years just to be a funeral notice with all the payment arrangements address to his next of kin. Sure as fuck wanted to die the same way she’d lived, as a monetary leech. How fucking pathetic his life had to be than even in death, his family could kick him in the ass one last time.

The taste of nicotine hadn’t been enough this time around so he’d come to the first bar downtown he could find. It was not fucking working though, his mind still the same convoluted mess than when he'd gotten the stupid thing.

“One more…” Glass hit the table, the next one goes.

And mother? Eugena Reed had been a lot of things in life but a doting mom never made it into the list.

Gavin had been at home when it happened, old memories clawing inside of him like vines of a rose brush. Thorns digging at his heart like it was fucking made of clay. At the time he couldn’t do more than choke on his spit and sink into his couch with thoughts full of regret, guilt and so much anger… but no one to vent at.

Now, now he was celebrating the news.

“I think you should slow down buddy.” The bartender tells Gavin as he watches with concern how he gulps down the… fuck who knows what he’s drinking anymore.

“Did I asked for your fucking opinion? Don’t think so. I’m paying, that’s the only thing you need to care about.” He slams the money on the counter. The guy shrugs at his aggression but thankfully doesn’t speak up again. He can’t deal with the sound right now, when he can feel how one of his migraines is going to sucker-punch him soon. Ice rocks lightly to his left but he misses the drink entirely as his balance falters for a brief second. He hides his face with one hand, feels how his head’s already pounding.

“Shit, not now…”

Oh and how he _wants_ to have another shot just to spite his body for betraying him but he’s not Hank. He has some level of self-restrain, when it comes to this.

“Whatever, I’m done here.” Says more to himself than the man in front of him as he sits up and stumbles to the back door. Not a chance he’s letting anyone he might know see him like this. The cold air hit his face like a truck when he reaches the streets. With hands in his pockets to protect his now numb fingers, he tries to remember the way back.

Walking through the snow becomes a challenge in his inebriated state but he’s nothing if not a determinate bastard. Though, even his grit comes to a stop when he hears a cry coming from the alley a few feet ahead. The same Goddamn alley he has to take in order to get to his shitty apartment.

The alternative would take him around half an hour and he doesn’t have enough for a taxi. He’d rather not spend more time outside with the way the wind's picking up. He weights his options as much as his dumbed down brain allows him to.

His gun’s not on him and the chances whatever is going on down there could take a turn for the worst are pretty high this late at night. All valid reasons not to go however, even though Gavin’s off the clock right now, it’s still his duty as a cop to at least check the situation.

Besides, he’s been itching for some action lately.

Back against the wall he slides closer to where the noises are coming from, making sure not to trip over his own feet. He peeks over the edge of the building and sees three dark figures. Two are pushing the slightly shorter third one around like a ragdoll, as they do little to defend themselves. All males from what he can tell.

They’re screaming all sort of obscenities at him and the scene feels strictly familiar to Gavin. His fingers twitch but other than that, he keeps watching. One of the men has tattoos all over his arms while the other has his hair bleached. The shorter one is blond.

Tattoos grabs the blondie by his hoody and pushes him against the wall. He pleads at them to stop but his words fall on deaf ears, of course they do. They never fucking listen…

“Not gonna get through them with that kid, you have to show it.” Gavin mutters without registering it. Hands now turned into fits as bleach punches his face. Blood runs down his nose, a crooked cartilage and split skin that would later heal into a scar.

“Please, stop.” Another punch this time at the stomach, causes him to double over. He feels like puking but there’s nothing on his stomach except bile.

“What you gonna do about it, bitch?” Gavin grits his teeth at that, screws his eyes shut. How many time he’d heard those exact words being thrown back at his face? Always a stupid excuse to beat the shit out of him. Because of his short height, because he was quiet, had no friends.

Fuckers didn’t have them either, just back-stabbing assholes waiting for the perfect time to strike. Its what he should be doing to them right now. “Come on kid, do it.” He encourages louder.

“Bet we could break you.” No they fucking wouldn’t, Gavin’s sure blondie could beat those two in a second. He was choosing not to because he was the better person here, unlike him. But it wouldn’t solve a thing, he’d tried it. Was all for shit.

“Fucking weak,” he wasn’t fucking weak, he _knew_ how to defend himself, he fucking could— “Hey you cocksuckers!” and now he’d done it. All three turn to him and, now he’s blown his cover, he steps out of his hiding spot. He receives glares that do anything but intimidate him. The things a little bit of alcohol can do to him.

“Get lost.”

He’s off-duty, doesn’t has his badge and drunk to top it all, it’d be easy to just walk away and pass off as another pair of eyes. So easy in fact, it’s almost not worth it. On the other hand, what would he gain from this fight? a concussion that’s for damn sure and…—Gavin advances towards the two thugs, cracking his knuckles to get some feeling back into them—…well, Tina always telling him how he makes poor decisions anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

'Had to give it to you Chen, pretty poor decisions for sure' Gavin thinks as he spits out blood. The inside of his right cheek burns like a motherfucker as his tongue laps at the cut on his lips.

He had a blackout, there’s a gap in his memory concerning the fight. He doesn’t remember who threw the first rock or what happened in between, but that's okay because he knows damn well how it ended.  Gavin has to admit, it was pretty fucking funny to see a man trying to carry a hundred and eighty something pounds of unconscious body away all while cursing really creative words at him.

Knowing the coast is clear, he takes this chance to slide down a dumpster behind him. Every part of his body hurts and the alcohol is no longer enough to dull the pain. His chest in particular is giving him trouble, seems his ribs ‘re acting like a bitch again. Doc had said no strenuous activity but come on, he'd had worst than this before, was like a walk in the park compared to his usual beatings in his book.

A shadow settles over his useless form and he doesn’t have the strength or care to look up.

“Back for round two?” He asks, a smile playing on his lips. Never mind the fact that even the thought of moving already feels like agony, he can always head-butt his attacker in the dick if the need arises.

“Are you alright, sir?” Ah so it is the victim, he lifts his head with difficulty to show he’s fine, at least by his definition. His eyes spot the blue light and his brain takes more than usual to catch up….an android.

All this time it’d been a fucking android. He had gone and saved a microwave from being bullied, what the hell was wrong with him? He feels hands searching his pockets. The icing on the cake for Gavin, getting mugged by the android he just saved, fantastic.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

“Hang on, I’m calling the police.” It says as it opens his wallet. Great, just what he needs. The whole precinct finding about this. He’ll be the laughing stock for the rest of the year. Hank will never let him live this down.

"I'll rather choke on my own blood."

Something cold lands on the tip of his nose, maybe the snow will bury him before anyone else gets here.

.... . . .

“Detective Reed, can you hear me?” A slight shaking jolts Gavin awake from his dream-like state. With blurry vision he notices the android has multiplied in the short time he’d fallen asleep or maybe he’s just seeing double. “It’s me, Connor,” or not.

Ah great, this asshole.

“Fuck ‘re you doin’ here? Fan of stalking me or somethin’?” All because of the stupid lucky cat. God, he never should’ve given this toaster anything to begin with. It’s like he had made it his personal goal to get on Gavin’s good side after that, when he just wanted to be left alone. And there he goes again with the ‘he’ thing, dammit.

“A PL600 send an emergency signal and I was the closest to his location.”

“Who…?”

“The android you helped.” This must be all karma’s doing because what are the chances that out of all the department, the android he hates is the first one to know. Hell, he takes it back. Give him Anderson any day, even Fowler would be better than this.

“Don’t get your hopes up Robocop, I didn’ fucking know it was an android. Got it?”

“Got it, now hold still for a moment…” it’s the only warning he gets before fingers are thrust into his mouth, making him almost gag at the foreign sensation. He shoves them off with a slap as he's overcome by a fit of coughing.

“Connor, what the fuck—?!”

“Your alcohol concentration is rounding 0.085%,” he says so casually after he’s—it’s, fucker— done licking said fingers. Gavin really wants to kill whoever designed Connor just for that. Would’ve one less sick fuck to worry about. "In other words you're drunk, detective."

“You’re so fuckin’ disgusting,” bcause really, couldn’t have it used a breathalyzer like a normal fucking cop would? And those hands better be clean or else...

“Noted,” Connor gets his arms around his waist and lift while the other tincan help stabilize him. “I should take you to a hospital.”

“Fuck that.” He’d had enough visits in the last month to last a life time. He’s not stepping foot in there for another ten years if he can help it.

“Then your home, so at least your wounds can be treated.” Home, such a funny word.

That fucking house was anything but a ‘home’, such a thing didn’t apply to him. He was not going back there, ever again.

“No.”

“Detective—.”

“I said no, Connor.”

“….. very well.” Light spins yellow as Connor concentrates. He had seen that face enough times to guess it must be calling for someone. Gavin wonders how it feels to have a phone inside your brain, pretty fucking uncomfortable he’d think.

He’d been able to ignore the headache until now but without any distraction its slowly making his dramatic comeback, along with the bruises. Not only is he emotionally exhausted but now he can throw physically drained into the mix too.

“Hank I understand but he—.” Connor’s voice get cuts off and annoyance grows on its face. Uh oh Hank is angry, what a shocker, too bad the rest of the conversation is lost to him. What he'd give to hear Anderson bust a vein over the phone.

Snow is falling harder now, the cold settles in and the thought of taking a nap looks far more inviting as the seconds pass.

 Maybe just five minutes...

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin has to admit if someone had told him that someday, he'd find himself inside of Anderson's house. Slumped on a sofa, swathe in bandages and with a fresh cup of steaming coffee by his side, he’d have probably punched them in the throat for even thinking that and then laugh at how bad of a joke it was.

And yet…

He thumps his head back against the armrest as a sudden sense of déjà vu overtakes him. This basically counted as the second time that plastic prick had helped him. At this rate, Gavin will be owning it for the rest of his life career.

A loud bark, snap him out of his crisis. He sits up to find a giant ball of fur waggling its tail next to his leg. Right, Anderson owns a Saint Bernard though Gavin doubts that what he’s seeing can be classified as anything but a monstrosity.

Another bark as it gets closer. He’s never been a big fan of dogs, but he’s spend enough time around animals to know what this one is about to do and he’s not having it.

“Mutt, don’t you dare.” The dog jumps on him anyway, panting in excitement. He put a hand on its snout to stop that huge tongue from reaching his face. God knows where the hell thing’s been. “Anderson, control your beast!”

“If you hurt Sumo I’m kicking you out!” Hank yells from the kitchen but moves his ass from the kitchen table to get rid of the pest. Wearing no more than an old grey T-shirt and black shorts, he gives a low whistle and, like magic, the dog gets down and quickly trots over to its master.

Huh, kind of wishes Ada would be that complainant.

“Never pegged you for one to take strays in.” Gavin hisses, not caring to hide the hate in his voice. He's willing to bet his right kidney good ol' Henry right here's not letting him stay out of the kindness of his decrepit heart, not a chance in hell.

“You’d be freezing outside of my porch if it were for me, Reed." Figures, "be fucking glad Connor is more sympathetic.” If Hank expects him to say thank you, then he has another thing coming.

“That’s be fine by me, show me the door so I can leave already.”

“I’ve called for an automated car, they informed me it’s arrival will be delayed due to the snow.” Fucking Connor and its stealth skills are going to give him a heart attack, he swears one day that piece of plastic will get him. It'll be listed as his cause of death, mark his words.

He looks over the back of the seat.

The android is resting against a wall, arms crossed over its chest. Jacket of its suit discarted to show the white shirt underneath. Gavin does the reasonable thing and gives it the middle finger before going for his coffee. He disregards the rising question of just how long it has been there and how fucking creepy it’d be if the android had been watching him while he slept. Not something he wants to think about at the moment.

“I’d advise you to remain here until it comes however, I won’t stop you if you wish to go…” Sometimes he forgets what a manipulating little shit Connor can be at times, making all seem like he has a choice to begin with. He’d heard how the storm’s raging against the windows and call him whatever you want, but he’s not suicidal.

“Fine.”

“Great, glad we had this conversation.” Hank makes a bee-line back to the kitchen and comes out with a beer can, must to Connor’s disdain. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Lieutenant.”

“Is just one Con’, not gonna fall dead from it.” He pats his thigh trying to beckon the dog into following him but it stays put, “fucking traitor.” Gavin would say.

“Don’t want the dinosaur to miss his beauty sleep.” He mumbles when he’s sure Hank in his bedroom. If Connor hears him, it doesn’t show. Though he’s thankful Hank is out of the picture, this doesn’t exactly work in his favor because now, not only is he alone with Connor, but with a love-seeking beast too.

“You’re not getting any pets from me—scram.” The mutt is not faced by his tone and let its head rest on top of his knee. Is it fucking stupid or something?

“Sumo seems to like you.” Real helpful there Connor. He brings the cup to his lips again, welcoming the subtle burn to his tongue.

“Can’t say the same.” Fuck it, not like it’s trying to eat his face, so he’ll let it be. As long as Gavin has coffee he can deal. What he can’t deal with though, is the way the overpriced toaster is looking at him. Like Gavin’s some complicated mystery and he needs to crack the code.

Dammit, it.

“Why don’t you take a picture? 'll last longer.”

“My optical units have been recording everything since I was first activated. I know everything there is to know about you, at least physically, detective.”

This causes Gavin to spit some of his drink. Well that answers one of his question he didn't want to know.

“The fuck? That’s so fucking creepy, don’t say that!”

“Apologies,” it says, not sounding the littlest bit sorry about admiting to basically being a creep. "Hobbies can be quite a liberating thing, can't they?" And it just lost him.

"What?"

“Lately, Hank has been asking me to find one as a way to pass the time. Unfortunately going by the definition, I don't have many likes or dislikes. As such, I've make it a personal goal to study certain human behaviors, particularly those involved with harmful substances. I believe my research could benefit from your input.”

“You’re not sticking your fingers in my mouth again.” That’s not sexual in any context, shut up.

“Not at all, I just want to ask you something…” because anything coming from a walking disaster like him could be classified as beneficial, sure. He gestures for the android to continue.

“In my time spent with Hank, I’ve learnt he resorts to more than unhealthy amounts of alcohol as a way to cope with… tragic past experiences. Are you perhaps trying to do the same, Detective?”

“Do not fucking compare me to that wash-out excuse of a man. He’s just trying to run away from his son’s death with a good shot of whisky. People die every single day and the bastard _knows_ that. He needs to get over it already if you ask me.” Ignoring the fact, he’d done the same thing not three hours ago thing is, it was different. He wasn’t trying to create his own miserable limbo where he’d go drown in his pity every chance he gets. He just needed a break some days, a minute for everything to slow down so he could have the opportunity to move on with his life.

A strong grip immobilizes his arm when he goes to take another sip, not enough to be painful, but Gavin’s feels like he’s not getting his hand back any time soon.

“I didn’t and I’d advise you not to say such words while in the Lieutenant’s residence, detective. I’ll not tolerate any disrespect towards his person.” Prompts to Cyberlife, Connor _can_ look intimidating when it really wants to.

“Oh I got it wrong, so Anderson’s your bitch not the other way around.” Plastic nails dig into the fabric of his jacket, making Gavin aware that the only reason his wrist’s not shattering in pieces right now is because tincan’s choosing not to.

“Detective stop, or I’ll be forced to take a less than diplomatic approach.”

“Bring it, Roomba.” Glare directed at him hardens, oh was he getting on Connor’s wires? He hopes so.

“Must I remind you what happened in the evidence room?”

“You don’t fucking scare me.” After all, Gavin hadn't earned the nickname _‘pain slut’_ in high school for no reason and, as he’d clearly demonstrated, he wasn’t afraid to take on someone bigger than him.

“You still have not answered my question.” Ah yes, what started this whole mess. What can he say? He’d had his fair share of tragic dealing with his parents, alright. Not that they had ever lay a finger on him no, but that had been the fucking root of the problem.

Even as a dumb kid he could see something wasn’t right with them. In the way he’d come back to the house bruised and blooded and nobody would bait an eye. How his mother would turn up the volume as he passed behind the couch and his father would head to the fridge. How he’d find four empty bottles of beer scattered on the kitchen later that same night, three too many. At some point he’d stopped addressing them as what they clearly weren’t, he doesn’t remember when.

Looking back on it, he’d have gladly welcomed the beating over that. Anything would’ve been better than indifference.

“You could be an outstanding officer if you just worked on your attitude.”

But see, that’s exactly what happens when you set the bar so low you can walk over it, there’s no room for disappointment. No one expects anything from you and it’s all the more surprising when you actually achieve something.

Gavin almost laugh as he remembers the look on Eugena’s face when he first has gotten a job at sixteen, a hint of pride in those dull eyes. How she’d clung to him like a parasite after that…. the same way she’d done to the man before him. The reason he’d fled that forsaken place.

“What do you know about that, eh Connor?”

“I—.”

“No plastic. You don’t get to tell me shit when you androids can just delete whatever the hell you want from your minds with a flip of a switch. Us humans? Yeah, we actually have to deal with all the emotional whiplash that comes with our fuck-ups. You. Don’t. Fucking. Understand.” Connor's mouth closes with a click, even the dog stops the annoying wriggling all together.

Gavin can’t believe that rant was enough to shut the android up and he doesn’t waste time taking advantage of it. “Must be pretty nice though, to forget just with a press of a button.” He finishes, snatching his wrist back.

“Some androids yes… but not all of them.” Gavin lifts an eyebrow at that, daring it to speak again.

“You know some poor unfortunate soul, Mr. Perfect?” Connor sighs, shoulders dropping as it goes to sit on the couch besides him. So natural it could pass off as human, if it weren't for the telling yellow light.

 “As you know, my model was designed strictly to aid in police investigations, made to probe, process and record all types of evidence. Knowing this, it’d have been… inconvenient for me to have the option to delete information or, in worst cases, have someone manually engage said protocol.”

“So you’d what, gather shit after another until your metal brain exploded?” It certantly would be funny to watch, Connor having to go to some Cyberlife tech-support every once in a while because of an overload. Pretty big flaw though, he thinks, even for a prototype.

“All data analyzed would be recorded and upload to Cyberlife, where it’d be decided whether or not my report was relevant to the current mission.” The words are directed at him but it’s eyes don’t move the TV. “The only instance I know my memory would’ve been compromised by my own doing would’ve involved my body being…. decimated.”

“Wait, wait so you mean like…like back in the interrogation room, with the suicidal robot?”

A curt nod is the only response he gets.

“Every time a Connor was destroy another one would take his place but he’d only retain memories Cyberlife had deemed important to the ongoing case.” He says simply as if he weren’t talking about the ins and outs of his death. Coldly and detached, to Gavin it feels rehearsed, like he’s repeating what someone had told him. “For instance, after the events preceding my first deactivation, I had to scan you in the break room in order to re-learn your name, detective.”

“Shit.” Because what else were you supposed to say to someone who’s only way of forgetting things was to go and off themselves? And what’s up with the weird choice of words. Deactivated, decimated just say it as it is now, a fucking death.

“You might not believe it but I too, have many regrets.” He looks down at his hands—it fuck, who cares anymore?—He stares directly at them as if they had wrong him somehow. “Some of which I won’t be able to atone…” This truck had taken such an emotional turn Gavin wasn’t sure how to get back on track.

He was shit at comforting people, never mind a fucking android. This was some heavy fucking stuff, what did Connor even saw in him to make him go yes, Gavin fucking Reed is the  appropiate man to pour all my problems into? It's not like he’d ever reach that level of thrust with Connor, not by a long shot.

Still... having to die over and over just to erase some part of your memory sounds so fucking sick and shit, he’s too sober for this kind of thing.

He pushes the dog away as he gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to get drunker for this.” Opening the fridge, he picks up two cans of beer and heads back to the couch.

“Hank won’t—.”

“Hank can go kick my ass later for all I care.” Sits on the same spot as before and offer Connor one of the drinks. “Take it.”

“Why are you giving me this?”

“This talk ‘bout feelings ‘s pissing me off. As I see it you can either continue to feel sorry for yourself or you can join me.” A shitty plan if he thinks about it, trying to get and android hammered but it’s the only thing he knows can work.

“Androids don’t have a need to drink.” He says unsure of all this and is not like he poisoned the damned thing.

“Yeah, yeah you’re better than us and shit. Will it mess up your CPU or whatever?”

“My body comes with an auxiliary storing compartment installed for special instances.”

“Fucking English, motherfucker.”

“I can drink it but have no way to process it like you do, it’ll need to be purged out of my system later.”

“Seems normal to me.” He still won’t take the beer and his arm is starting to feel tired. “Come one bolts, don’t you wanna know why were so in love with this stuff?” That seems to win him over, he grabs the can and studies it, no doubt all the ingredients are flashing in his mind. Finally, he opens it and takes a small taste.

“So how is it?”

“This beverage is composed of 4.5% alcohol, 3.2% carbohydrates—.”

“No, not that science lab bullshit, tell me what _you_ think.” Since they could do that now, but Connor persisted on keeping up that infuriating machine-act more often than not. Gavin couldn't deny he was curious to see if he'd go off script.

“It’s cold and…bitter?” and really this usually so eloquent robot couldn’t go with something better than that? Gavin takes a gulp of his can and grunts. Eh whatever, thing’s been alive for what? Few weeks at most. He was basically dealing with a newborn here.

“Like it should be. God job Pinocchio, you’re one step closer to becoming a real boy.” He taps his can with Connor’s and downs it, the android imitates him.

At one point, Gavin asks if androids are even able to get drunk to which Connor politely denies. He’s sure he scratches Sumo’s ear just to make it stop looking at him like that. Jesus, these two were making him go soft but…it _is_ taking his mind away from his troubles. What baffles him is how he finds he's actually enjoying this. He _should_ feel irritated by that fact but no one else will be the wiser to this, except maybe Hank.

He can forgive himself, just this once.

Around 45 minutes later the taxi arrives at last and he’s drunk again. Connor guides him to the back seat. He makes a poor attempt at checking if everything is on him when the android taps at the roof to get his attention.

“Take care, Detective.” The car takes off after that and he’s not sure if he answered back.

Ada is already at the door, waiting for him, when he makes it into the apartment. “Ah, there’s my queen,” he coos while lifting her up into his arms. Kiss the top of her head as she purrs, delighted by the affection. She gives him playful bites at the hand petting through her long fur. As much as he wants to give in and play with her a little, he’s too tired to even try this time.

He put her down to take out his jacket, drops it on the floor and goes straight to the bedroom. Hits the mattress face first with a groan, shoes still on. Warmth settles on top of his back as the soft fur ball curls up, ready to go down the same road as him. Just as sleep is finally setting in, his phone buzzes into his thigh, multiple times.

He searches for it and glares at the _new message_ displayed on the screen from Lt. Dickhead.

 

_Care to tell me why Connor is puking his circuits_

_out in my bathroom? The fuck did you do?_

Gavin can’t help it, he laughs. Has trouble breathing because apparently, androids can’t get under the influence of alcohol but it sure looks like they can experience the consequences of it.

Tomorrow, he might not remember all that went down this night. He might have to face his problems but at least, he knows he’ll have this text to look up to in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys, you get to meet Ada but Connor will have to wait a little more. Thanks to anyone who read this!


End file.
